


Heads or Tails

by frozenCinders



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: M/M, Vampire AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-21 04:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenCinders/pseuds/frozenCinders
Summary: Solf J. Kimblee: infamous vampire and annoying coworker. Miles doesn't have anywhere near the reputation Kimblee does; doesn't care to. It's better not to go around flashing your fangs at humans, after all. The only problem is, he's fairly certain even Kimblee has no idea that Miles is also a vampire. Thinks he might be mistakenly seeing him as prey.





	1. Chapter 1

Solf J. Kimblee: infamous vampire and annoying coworker. Miles doesn't have anywhere near the reputation Kimblee does; doesn't care to. It's better not to go around flashing your fangs at humans, after all. The only problem is, he's fairly certain even Kimblee has no idea that Miles is also a vampire. Thinks he might be mistakenly seeing him as prey.

The way he acts over time only adds up more and more to that conclusion. Miles tried to ignore it for the most part, or dismiss it as paranoia, up until Raven offered Kimblee human cattle and Kimblee actually took the time to look over at Miles, stare at him for a good ten seconds or so, and then calmly deny the offering. Yeah, that's not paranoia.

Now he's following Miles outside and it's dark and he's got half a mind to lead Kimblee into an alley just to end this misunderstanding. Scratch that, the thought quickly takes over and now he's already standing in the alley, leaning casually against a wall and making it pretty obvious that he's waiting for Kimblee.

He follows him in, his smile only growing as he gets closer. He doesn't try to pin Miles, doesn't try to outwardly exert dominance, just keeps stepping closer. He's trying to be intimidating, baring his fangs in a grin and all, and maybe he would have succeeded if he'd chosen any other victim.

Having had enough of standing passively by, Miles lunges at him and switches their places, pinning him to the opposite wall and biting him as if to say "me too, jackass." Kimblee is taken by surprise all the way through but the sound he makes when Miles sinks his fangs into his throat is less pained and more...

"Harder," he whispers, not struggling at all against the hands pinning his wrists to the wall. Did he know Miles was a fellow vampire the whole time after all? It's not like they can really feed on each other, so the pool of his possible intentions quickly drains until only a couple of ideas are left.

Miles doesn't humor him; just slowly pulls away.

"What were you hoping to accomplish here?" he asks, very conscious to make the way he licks the blood off his lips as quick and inconspicuous as possible. Kimblee just continues smiling at him, reaching up to touch the dark, dead blood on his throat.

"We're on the right track, if you'll get back over here," he says, kissing a drop of blood off of his thumb.

"Find a prostitute or something," Miles dismisses.

"None as pretty as you."

The cheesy compliment doesn't exactly flush his cheeks.

"How is a human going to dominate me, hm?" Kimblee goes on. "My instinct will take over and I'll bite them and they'll realize what I am and probably ruin the moment. Don't you have a similar problem?"

"Maybe I'm not so primal," Miles says, but he can't deny his instincts after all. It's just that he doesn't often feel that he has no choice but to give in to those urges.

"Maybe. But why bottle it up?"

The bite on Kimblee's neck is already closing up thanks to his healing factor. Miles could speed up the process by licking it. Maybe he'd like to hear another sound like the one Kimblee made earlier. Now he's wishing he could discreetly flip a coin. Fuck it, who needs to be discreet? Kimblee certainly doesn't seem to care for the concept.

Miles reaches into his pocket and takes a quarter out in plain sight. Kimblee's shitty grin is replaced with a look of gentle confusion.

Heads, and Miles walks away. Tails, and...

He flips the coin into the air and catches it, placing it on the back of his hand. Then he pulls the hand covering it away to see the result.

"What'll it be, then?" Kimblee asks, having extrapolated the situation. Miles looks at him and calmly puts the quarter back in his pocket.

Then tackles him to the wall again and promptly reopens that wound.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh wow, did you have a tiff with another vampire?"

"Jesus, you get mauled by a dog?"

"What are- oh..!"

"Hey, are you ok?"

Does Kimblee have no shame, not covering up those bite marks? Miles had gone a little overboard last night- to the point where if Kimblee weren't a vampire, he'd be requiring bandages for sure. He's deliberately slowing his healing factor, too; a skill most vampires use to blend in, not draw attention. At least he doesn't throw Miles a cheesy, obvious wink when he glances at him.

It's not like they even did much. Miles bit the hell out of him, sure, and he did jerk him off in that alley as well, but they didn't _technically_  have sex. Which left Miles possibly even more sexually frustrated with Kimblee. Kimblee was practically begging to be used that night, even after he came, but Miles just didn't have it in him at the time. He's still a little confused.

He tried to weigh the pros and cons before coming into work today. He came up with "might be less annoying?" and "sex i guess" as the pros. As for cons, "might be MORE annoying," "i'd be giving him what he wants," "probably has some ulterior motive," "will probably not shut up about our relationship," amongst a laundry list of other possibilities filled the page. There's really no feasible reason for him to give in to Kimblee. And yet... He can't place this feeling. It's certainly not love, but it's something.

"Miss me already?" Kimblee asks, suddenly next to Miles. "You've been staring."

"How can you even tell?" It's a legitimate question; Miles is wearing shades as usual. Vampires are typically sensitive to sunlight, after all. Women can often get away with bringing a parasol or a sunhat around everywhere, but most male vampires tend to either squint and bear it or invest in sunglasses. Kimblee's hat must work well enough for him.

"I don't need to see your eyes to know. I can feel your gaze on me."

It's a cheesy line and Miles somewhat regrets asking.

"So?" Kimblee prompts, leaning on the railing with Miles. "Are we going further tonight?"

"You sure seem eager to move this along."

"I told you last night: I want you to take me home and fuck me until-"

Miles quickly clasps a gloved hand over his mouth.

"This is not a workplace discussion," he reminds him. He honestly fully expects Kimblee to lick his hand, so he doesn't take long to remove it.

"-until the bed collapses under us," he finishes anyway. Miles grits his teeth and brings a hand up to his temple.

"If you want me to be rough with you so badly, how about I punch you in the face?"

"Hm... if you could go for my cheek rather than my nose or an eye, I might consider it." He seems to be genuinely thinking about it. "Actually-"

"Look," Miles cuts him off, sick of everything he says fueling Kimblee, "enough."

Kimblee smiles at him. Miles can't tell to what degree he was joking, if at all, but as much as Miles threatens him, he doesn't particularly enjoy senseless violence. He doesn't tell Kimblee that he wouldn't actually hit him, though.

Miles puts up with Kimblee tailing him all day, probably avoiding half his work just to be in Miles's presence. He doesn't say much, surprisingly, just sort of stares; knowing, satisfied, yet still inevitably craving more. Kimblee finally talks again after a record two hours or so.

"What about in your car?"

"What's in my car?" Miles asks, knowing he's wrong. But he can't _still_  be thinking about sex, right?

"Me. And you," he says, and Miles doesn't have to turn to know he's smiling.

"Need me to drive you somewhere?" he deflects. He has to ignore the tempting parts of everything Kimblee suggests and he suspects it's only going to get harder. Er, more difficult. But also harder, unfortunately.

"Yes, actually." Kimblee moves over and stands behind Miles, whispering in his ear so their passing coworkers are less likely to hear him. "I'd like you to drive me out of my mind with your cock. You didn't even let me see it last time. I want you to choke me with it. I want you to tie me down and fuck me until I can't walk. I want you to use me all night, no matter how exhausted I get. Like I'm just a toy to you; a cocksleeve."

Kimblee doesn't relent, just as Miles thought, and his filthy whispers are riling him up much more than they should.

"Fill me with your s-"

"Enough, Kimblee. I get it," Miles finally interrupts, swatting him away.

"And?"

Miles feels it's appropriate to say "you win" here, but can't bring himself to. Leaving him wondering and catching him off guard again might be nice. Maybe he'll add a few more bites to his neck.

So he doesn't answer. As he walks away, Kimblee huffs and follows him, silent and expectant again. Miles starts planning for tonight.

Only another hour has to pass before it's dark and Kimblee is wordlessly following Miles to his car. He considers throwing him into the backseat and fucking him there like he asked, but decides against it. It'd be disastrous if someone caught them, for a number of reasons.

Instead, he gets into the driver's seat and closes the door without a word. He doesn't drive away. Kimblee leans on the door and looks at him through the window, a little confused. Miles reluctantly nods his head to the passenger's seat and waits for him to climb in. The deal is sealed; no going back now, he supposes.

Kimblee is excited about Miles giving in to him. He takes Miles's glove off and holds his hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss his knuckles and then give him a little nibble. He doesn't draw blood, only threatens to with his fangs pressing against Miles's skin, angled in a way that won't hurt him.

"What are you doing?" Miles caves, unable to figure out what kind of weird mind game or courting ritual Kimblee is up to now.

"You have nice hands," he simply says, planting another, longer kiss.

Miles unconsciously flexes his hand, feeling the urge to push against him, to pin Kimblee against the car door and bite him again. His instincts never scream at him this much with actual human prey, so why a vampire? Does he have a similar interest to Kimblee after all, wanting to engage like that with his own kind? Biting him will soothe his teeth, but never satisfy him since he can't feed on him, so what's the point?

While Miles is contemplating his vampire instincts, Kimblee slips a hand past his fly. Miles's whole body twitches- he almost slams the brakes, even- and he spares Kimblee a glance to see his shitty grin. He's not moving his hand and Miles doesn't know if he's asking for permission or just wants to wait until he's distracted again to try to give him a handjob. This is someone who loves danger and near death experiences, after all; intelligence be damned.

The worst part about this situation has to be the fact that Miles _wants_  to be defiantly flaccid, but he's not. His body is loving the attention Kimblee is giving it and it urges him to let him continue. So he doesn't say anything and expects Kimblee to start moving sooner or later, but he doesn't. His grip almost imperceptibly tightens and loosens along the ride, probably not even intentionally, but he doesn't stroke him even once. He doesn't know if it's Kimblee's intention or not, but that just makes him crave it.

When Miles pulls into his driveway, Kimblee finally moves his hand by removing it and Miles actually gasps at the long awaited friction. He fixes his pants and steps out of the car, restraining himself so he doesn't slam the door; no need to add making Miles pay for a new window to Kimblee's list of offenses.

Once they're inside, Kimblee places his hat on the first surface he sees, which ends up being the coffee table. He takes his coat off- only one of many layers- and starts heading upstairs.

"Where are you going?" Miles calls to him. Kimblee ignores him in favor of exploring. Miles sighs and follows him.

Kimblee stops at two doors and waits for Miles.

"My mother visits often, so she stays in there," he explains, pointing to the door on the right. "Left is the guest room."

Kimblee opens the left door and his face lights up with something akin to mischief (or madness). His eyes are glued to the floor to ceiling mirror covering one of the walls.

"Why do you have this?" he asks, a little amused.

"My grandparents decorated the place, not me. You'd have to ask them."

"Fuck me in here," Kimblee tells him more than asks. Miles looks at the mirror, sees the two of them standing together, sees every detail of both of their movements clearly, and the reality of it is too much for him.

"Maybe next time," Miles says, outright chickening out. It even took him a minute to realize he just implied there would be a next time. Kimblee doesn't miss a thing, however, and beams at him. He leans in and gives Miles a kiss on the jaw before brushing past him to leave the room.

Miles guides him back downstairs and towards his bedroom. Kimblee is walking in front of him, soft ponytail swishing whenever he turns his head to look around, and Miles gets the inexplicable urge to pull it. He also acknowledges the urge to slam him against the wall and bite him again. His fangs itch.

Kimblee stands in front of the bed and spins on his heel to face Miles, looking at him expectantly with a smile on his face. Miles calmly closes the door out of habit, takes his remaining glove, his shades, and his coat off, and then all but throws Kimblee onto the bed. Kimblee, of course, adores the rough treatment.

Miles is all over him, haphazardly undressing him just enough to fuck him, and Kimblee is going overboard with the noises but they sound so _genuine_ , like Miles giving his collarbone a quick nip as he pulls Kimblee's pants off is the most pleasant thing he's ever felt. Positive response to being bitten always makes him unbearably hungry.

He pulls away completely for a moment to dig through a drawer in his nightstand for lube and when he looks at Kimblee again, the state of him somehow takes him by surprise. He's lying there all dishevelled, willing and pliant and _waiting_ , cold blood having rushed to his face. He looks ready to be devoured and it's taking an absurd amount of willpower to maintain his dignity, his grace, and not just pounce on him and tear his throat out.

Miles can't decide whether to prepare Kimblee himself or have him do it. He considers asking but figures Kimblee would beg him to. Actually...

"You want me to do it?" he asks, flicking the cap off.

"Yes," Kimblee hisses, "god, yes."

"How badly?"

Kimblee's eyes widen slightly, but not as much as his grin. He spreads his legs as Miles steps in front of the bed, grabbing him by the hips and pulling him closer to the edge. If Miles wasn't fully hard already, that motion sure did it. He unintentionally thinks back to the filth Kimblee had been whispering at him earlier and almost forgets to pay attention to his begging.

"I want you to make me fall apart. I want to get so close to coming, to making a mess of your sheets, only for you to take it from me because you haven't had yours yet."

"Are you imagining yourself on your knees, then?"

"Absolutely," Kimblee immediately replies, moving to sit up. Miles holds him down and Kimblee seems to appreciate that just as much.

"If you're going to fall apart, I need to see it," Miles says, and Kimblee was probably already about to moan from that because he makes a strange choked gasp when Miles pushes a finger into him.

Miles has always been rather vanilla and traditional; gentle and missionary. He feels that anything else could end up exposing his species to his partner, should he lose control. But is there a point in holding back with another vampire? Maybe when they fuck in front of the mirror, Miles will have Kimblee on his knees. He'll still be able to see his face that way.

"Give me more," Kimblee breathes, somehow maintaining steady eye contact. Miles can't wait to have him squeezing his eyes shut, biting his lip, making stuttering, keening little noises, all while still managing to beg for more. Fuck, he's falling fast.

Rather than loosening up, Kimblee somehow seems like he's getting tighter by the minute. He's gripping the sheets and his head is thrown back and he keeps saying _"more"_. His throat is bared...

Miles removes his fingers and almost immediately thrusts into him, sinking his fangs into his neck as he does so. Kimblee yelps and winces but the hands that fly to Miles's shoulders are pulling him closer, not pushing him away. Miles already starts fucking him; roughly, just like he wanted.

"God, yes," Kimblee gasps, and Miles takes that as incentive to speed up and he practically _screams_. He's descending into a lusty haze, swearing so much more than is typical for him, for such a fancy, polite, false gentleman. Miles bites into his shoulder this time, smearing dark blood on his face and Kimblee's skin.

"Harder," he begs frantically, breathlessly, "harder."

Miles can't tell which he's asking for, so he bites down _and_  fucks him harder and Kimblee's voice cuts out a little when he screams his name. He's so messy now, all dishevelled and covered in his own blood and sweat, and Miles craves to add more. He takes mercy on Kimblee, reaching down to touch him, and he's already coming after just a few pumps, desperately whispering "keep going, keep going, keep going."

Miles licks at the wound on Kimblee's shoulder in slow, broad strokes, as he continues, taking in the flavor even if not any energy. Kimblee's noises are softer now; he's spent but still has that desire to be used. He's such a perfect meal.

That thought sneaking up on him like that is too much for Miles. His eyes are closed as he pumps him full of come but Miles can tell from Kimblee's appreciative little sounds that he's staring at him- and liking what he sees. It's possible that Miles is the one who fell apart here.

They both take a few moments to calm down and Miles eventually pulls out. He picks Kimblee up and moved him to lay in bed proper, gently resting his head on the pillow and all. Kimblee smiles up at him, amused by the treatment. He's still covered in blood...

Miles slowly licks a trail up his neck, causing the bites to heal faster than Kimblee was letting them.

"Stop it, I like them," he protests, gently pulling Miles's hair but not actually putting in an effort to stop him.

"You can't have so many. People were asking questions."

"I want them to."

"Well I don't."

"Aren't you controlling..?"

It should be a complaint, but Kimblee doesn't seem to mind. Miles kisses one of the bites away completely and notices Kimblee has finally stopped slowing his healing factor. He thinks for a moment before deciding on a compromise.

Miles descends Kimblee's body and presses his lips to his thigh.

"Mm, again?" he moans, probably already craving a second round. Miles glances at the come on Kimblee's stomach and feels himself beginning to stir again as well, but he ignores it in favor of sinking his teeth into Kimblee's inner thigh.

He gasps at the pain but as usual, his sigh of "oh, fuck" is more content than anything. He spreads his legs and moans for more and just the fact that he's acting so like willing prey is sending Miles's instincts into overdrive yet again. He has no trouble leaving three more harsh bites scattered around, idly watching Kimblee harden again under his ministrations.

Vampire blood is still no fun to drink, but the act of drawing it is satisfying nonetheless. Kimblee's thighs are stained with his dark blood and his healing factor has slowed again and Miles thinks he's done enough to satisfy both of them.

"You can keep those," he says. Kimblee is flushed again and has that _look_  on his face. He looks vulnerable. Appetizing.

Miles slides back into him, easy as hell now and drawing such a desperate, satisfying moan from Kimblee. His teeth practically ache at the sight of Kimblee's neck, barely healed up and just begging to be wounded again. He pulls Kimblee's legs up and rests one ankle on his shoulder, holding the other one in his hand and biting into his calf as he starts fucking him again. Kimblee _loves_  it.

"Stay with me," Kimblee whispers, breathless.

Against all odds, it's only sounding more and more tempting.


End file.
